I smile. “That bar is the best place for decisions.”
When we stop at the hardware store, Banks brings in the box of baked goods for the crew but makes sure Chris gets a cookie when there’s a break in action. “It’s from The Sweet Spot,” he says. “Katrina is a big fan of yours and wanted you to have one.”
The movie star pumps Banks’s hand, giving him a heartfelt thank you, then takes a cookie. I figure he’ll set it aside or give it away since he’s probably on a kale-and-boiled-chicken-only diet. Instead, he takes a bite and then moans. When he’s done chewing, he asks, “Where did you say these are from?”
“The Sweet Spot,” Banks answers, and Chris looks like he’s filing that data in a very special drawer in his head.
Later that night, Banks tells me again I’m impossible to resist as he lies down on the bed.
“Is that so?” I ask from across the room.
“Yep.” He pats the mattress. “Get over here.”
“So bossy.”
“And you like it.”
“I do,” I say, joining him.
He sits up and strips me in seconds, then tugs off his own shirtin one smooth, sexy motion. “Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Want to watch you bouncing up and down on my dick.”
Well then. “I believe that can be arranged.” I undo his shorts, find a condom, and cover him.
As midnight settles over Lavender Bliss Farms, I lower myself onto him, gasping and sighing as he fills me up, arching into the sensations racing through me—the pressure, the sparks, the heat. There are no DIY toys this time. No headbands. No flowers. Nor any hands holding my wrists. This time I press my palms to his chest, bracing myself on him as I set the pace. He grips my hips, and we move together, unbound.
Me over him.
Him under me.
Giving and taking. Till we’re both chasing the edge, then falling off it together.
Funny how a week ago he was arriving in town, and I was trying to ditch him. Now I’m trying to soak up as much time as I can get before he leaves.
Since he will.
The shoot the next day is here on the farm. I’m showered and dressed and making coffee in the farmhouse kitchen when an image of last night flashes vividly through my mind.
I shiver just as Tabitha walks into the kitchen. I straighten, shaking off the lingering lust. “Good morning. Want some coffee?”
“I’m going to need it. Haven’s in makeup right now, but I justgot a call that her stand-in is sick. Any chance you could help us out for an hour?”
Well, I guess you can’t get a better stand-in than a twin sister.
34
SO VERY META
RIPLEY
I don’t know what to do with my face.
I stand on a stone pathway edged by Hidcote plants, wearing a wide-brimmed hat like the heroine inSomeone Else’s Ringwears in this scene. Sam and some of the other guys are holding up light meters and diffusers as they check the lighting. Meanwhile, I’m smiling like my cheeks are held up by clothespins.
“Whoa. Are you in the pic now, boss?”
Cyrus walks among the bushes, heading my way, shielding his eyes from the morning sun, his floppy hair falling on his hand.
“No. God no,” I say. Do my words sound as awkward as my body looks?
